


High Hopes Low--High Love

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [12]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Also Paddy has some low self-esteem, Angst, I'm running out of title names I never thought this day would come, Important Items that were broken are fixed, M/M, Malark Does Not Know What Feelings Are, Nagar is mentioned, Referenced Major Character Injury, Scar mention and description, Scars, but also fluff, but only at the last bit, no beta we die like warlocks, or how to deal with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: They may have survived the potion mishap, but they weren’t unscathed. Far from that, actually.Still, knowing that the scar was there didn’t change the shock of seeing it.
Relationships: Malark Dundragon/Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	High Hopes Low--High Love

**Author's Note:**

> You need to read “High Hopes Low Luck”, “High Hopes Low Clean Clothes” (sort of), and “High Hopes Low Sleep” before this. They’re in the series this is in. TWs in tags. This takes place right after “High Hopes Low Sleep”, specifically the next day at the start.

He woke up with Paddy sitting up beside him, holding the fractured pieces of his mask.

Reaching over Malark gently took his hand, and the pair exchanged a look. A slight smile crossed the wood elf’s face, and he whispered, “I’m okay.”

Letting his hand wander up to Paddy’s neck, Malark pulled him down beside him. The broken mask fell between them, and for a brief moment the pair simply existed.

There was no gap between them, physically or relationally.

There was no night before, when Paddy had accidentally hurt him.

There was no stress as part of High Hopes, part of being heroes.

They were just them. Malark Dundragon and Paddy Whitlaw, two people who could barely be considered young adults. They were barely above their teenage years (they could hardly call them “teenage” years for Paddy; being an elf, he was still a young adult at forty-seven).

Quietly, Malark reached up and started stroking Paddy’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re so…” He trailed off and paused, holding that fascinating green gaze with his own pale blue. Behind the mask, he smiled.

He had a vague urge to kiss Paddy, but now wasn’t the time.

Paddy glanced down at the mask again and the light in his eyes dimmed a little. “I wish I hadn’t…they’d be so disappointed.”

Frowning, Malark wrapped his arms around Paddy’s waist and pulled him close. “They wouldn’t be. They loved you.”

“You never met them. I never even told you about them.”

“But I know you. They loved you—I can tell by how you say their names, or when you think about Bay Hollow.” He pulled Paddy closer, letting his hands rub gentle circles between the elf’s shoulders. They’d never been this close. Normally, he would never let them _be_ this close. It was too personal, too private. But Paddy needed him, and it didn’t matter if he was just a little uncomfortable with close quarters then. “And I’m sure they’d understand. You lost everything, Paddy.”

For a second, Paddy paused, stiff in Malark’s arms, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then he relaxed a little, and Malark closed his eyes. He knew Paddy was out when, a few moments later, the elf’s breathing had eased out and his form was slumped into Malark’s fully.

Allowing his eyes to close, he drifted off.

~

The first time he saw the scar, he actually felt a physical pain run through his chest.

It had been several weeks of travel since the night where Paddy broke his mask. It was fixed now, although he was acting like it was made of glass. Even though he knew everyone else was careful, he wouldn’t even let Malark touch it. Instead, it sat either on his desk or on his hip—he hadn’t put it back in its right place yet.

When he was ready, it would go back.

For now, it just wasn’t time.

They were in another inn, this one bigger and fancier but somehow less expensive than many they had been at in the past, when Malark finally got a glimpse of the scar. He knew where it was from. They had messed with a witch and incurred her wrath after chasing her off. She was a former Guild member, or at least connected to them. Even now, Malark wished that they had killed her, but they had thought she was a harmless old lady with a love for flowers. They wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The witch had cursed him and Paddy afterwards, made them have awful luck. Some of it was just funny—like Malark having a blackberry cobbler dropped on him, and Paddy snorting at the worst time during a conversation. However, their bad luck eventually ended up with Malark nearly strangling Paddy to death, breaking several of the wood elf’s fingers and his nose in the process. Paddy had nearly been decapitated twice, and even now he still flinched away from Nagar’s battleaxe. _That_ wound had been terrifying.

Malark still remembered the pain on his face when he collapsed, the massive slash across his shoulders bleeding everywhere.

So when Paddy was standing at the sinks, trying to clean a massive scrape on the front of his chest, Malark couldn’t help but glance over at him a few times. The injury extended from his chest up to the top of his right shoulder blade, the result of a monster slamming him into the ground and dragging him for several feet with its tail. The monster had been taken care of. “What? Like what you see?” Paddy teased with a sly smirk, and Malark’s face burned under the mask. Looking back to his own current injury—a bite wound in his upper leg that had been embarrassing (it had torn off a significant chunk of his pants)—he started rewrapping the bandages. “Don’t go too tight, you could hurt yourself.”

“I know what I’m doing, Whitlaw.” He shot back, and Paddy smiled.

“Was that a _teasing_ tone I heard? Wow, he really _does_ have emotion.” Malark met his gaze, eyes narrowed but mouth turned up in a smile. To be fair, his mask _did_ hide whether or not he smiled. “Oh, you’re smiling! I got Malark Dundragon to smile!”

“Shut up, you didn’t.”

“Yes I did, you smile with your whole face.” When he dropped the smile, Paddy frowned. “Oh, quit pouting. You know I love you.”

“Yeah, right.” The way he said it, even though the words made Malark’s heart do a weird thing he kind of wanted it to repeat, it wasn’t the _way_ Malark wanted to hear it. No, wait, what was he thinking? He couldn’t afford feelings. Looking back up at Paddy, he opened his mouth to add something.

And then he saw the scar.

It was huge, almost worse than when Malark had seen it the first time. Sure, it had been covered in blood and then it was bandaged up, but somehow it seemed a million times worse. It trailed from the top of his left shoulder down in a jagged line, arching over his spine and then underneath his right shoulder blade. Shuddering, he found himself wondering what would have happened if Nagar’s axe had gone any deeper.

Paddy seemed to catch the horrified expression and paused. “What are you looking at?” He turned around and twisted to get a look, and in the mirror Malark saw the second he realised how bad it was. In a few short seconds, shock and horror and pain passed through his gaze, and Paddy stood there for a second with wide eyes. Some of the colour had faded, somehow, less like its bright spring green and more like pond water after a storm. “Oh. That’s…something, alright. I…didn’t realise it looked like that…” Turning, he reached over and grabbed a shirt, yanking it over his head before going back to treating the injury. It had to be harder—he kept letting out little grunts and winces as he pulled the collar down and forced the fabric against sensitive skin.

When he came back to their bed (the clerk had _refused_ to give them a room with two beds, and they only had so many rooms open and Malark and Paddy had shared before, so it wasn’t as huge a deal as if Nagar and Hashaan had been forced to share), he sat on the very edge and stared at the floor for a while. Reaching over, Malark touched Paddy’s arm. “First time seeing it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise.” Paddy glanced back at him, like he was expecting some sort of tell that Malark was lying. There was none, obviously, because he turned and laid down facing the assassin, hands curled between them like always. Under his mask, Malark shot him a smile, and Paddy returned it after a second. There was still a sad glaze to his eyes, though. “Besides, yours looks kind of cool.”

“Seriously? My scar looks cool?”

“Yeah, it does. Have I ever told you about…” He trailed off, continuing into a story. He wasn’t sure why—he didn’t talk like this with anyone else. As the tale went on, he noticed some of the light return to Paddy’s eyes, although not all of it.

By the time they were asleep, he was reminding himself that he could not afford feelings for Paddy.

Except…maybe one day. But only if Paddy returned them.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, this was a weird one to write. Most of it’s only on the computer, which is kind of weird for me. Anyways, hope you liked it and I hope you have a nice time of day where you are. Thanks for reading!  
> And, as always, into the fray once more!


End file.
